The Wanted Man
by Shinju90
Summary: Operation Frankenstein stalled when their prototype disappeared. When Jonas Cobb re-emerged his trainer was ordered to bring him in, alive. Now on his agency's hit list, Trent Kort, must stay under the radar long enough to gather conclusive evidence that Frankenstein is still running. But he won't be doing it alone.


**Title**: The Wanted Man

**Genre**: General

**Characters**: Trent Kort, Tim McGee

**Challenge**: The Unlikely Duo Challenge

**Summary**: Operation Frankenstein stalled when their prototype disappeared. When Jonas Cobb re-emerged his trainer was ordered to bring him in, alive. Now on his agency's hit list, Trent Kort, must stay under the radar long enough to gather conclusive evidence that Frankenstein is still running. But he won't be doing it alone.

**Series**: Men and Monsters

**Disclaimer**: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

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_**The Wanted Man**_

The café was filled to the brim with convention goers. They poured in with their badges, plastic sacks filled to the brim with geek treasures and costumes, filling up the tables in search of better and cheaper food than the Science Fiction convention across the street provided. All tables save one were filled with the laughing, smiling men and women. He had been there all morning, filling up his cup every time it emptied and watching the street. Occasionally someone would approach the man sitting alone at the table in the corner. His cold, one-eyed glare would send them scurrying, muttering about pirates.

Trent Kort, rolled his eye. As if he hadn't heard and hated every pirate joke known to mankind in the last three months. When confronted with an eye-patch some people just seemed to be compelled to joke. It reminded him a lot of DiNozzo if he were honest.

He watched as another large group of convention goers crossed the street. Running and laughing as they dodged cars that didn't slow down choosing to lay on the horn instead. The group broke up as they entered the café, some searching for seats while others went to the counter to order. Trent dismissed them out of hand. The type of men that he was hiding from wouldn't have been able to hide themselves successfully in a group of geeks.

After Director Vance had assured him of Jonas Cobb's death Trent had fled the scene like a hunted animal. Which wasn't an inexact analogy. It hadn't been coincidence or Agent David that had brought Ray Cruze back to DC. Up until a certain point he had been able to convince those in charge that his actions in Hawaii had all been in self-defense. But you could only delay the discovery of attempted murder for so long.

Cruz had been sent in to determine why he had disobeyed orders. Cobb was the precious prototype, the Operation's only semi-success. They wanted him back alive. Trent knew better. Cobb was no success. He was a broken tool and now so was Trent in the eyes of his lord and masters.

Keeping an eye on the geeks had been a knowledgeable experience. They tended to stick together when and unknown (like himself) that didn't fit into their society appeared. If any of the agency's hit men were in the crowds he doubted they would be able to hide.

He had similar doubts about whomever he would eventually be meeting. Of course, Trent didn't know which of the MCRT Director Vance would send to become his temporary handler. Agent David was the most likely. After her brother she had the most experience. She was also most likely to kill him.

But he couldn't imagine any of them fitting in with this crowd any more than a CIA hit man.

So he was quite surprised when the chair across from him was drawn back and Special Agent Timothy McGee dropped into it. Trent had to stop his hand, instinctively reaching for his 9mm at the surprise. McGee was smiling; a convention badge hanging around his neck. Trent had to mentally revise his early statement. Most of the MCRT would not have fit in with convention geeks. But clearly Tim McGee felt right at home.

"You were expecting someone else?" McGee put his elbows on the table, leaning forward slightly to rest his chin on his hands. "With the convention next door I'm surprised. I can't really imagine anyone else on the Team using it as a cover."

Truthfully Trent hadn't thought the convention itself was the cover. He had believed the cover to be the large crowd. Timothy McGee hadn't even registered on his radar because most of the time he classified the young man as tech-support despite his Special Agent status.

"In fact I did." Trent sipped his tea delicately as he tried to recover his mental balance. "I wasn't aware that Gibbs let his baby agent out to play on his own yet. Unless you've got backup hiding away somewhere."

Trent hoped that the kid had backup. He didn't trust McGee to be capable of shaking a CIA trained tail on his own. The younger man didn't seem upset by the implication. But working with DiNozzo all day he was probably used to such things. McGee sat one of his large plastic sacks on the table and began rummaging through it. Trent sneered at the bright logo printed on the plastic. He really hoped this boy hadn't been too caught up in geek play-land to pay attention to anyone who might be following him.

"Ah ha!" McGee made a quiet noise of triumph, drawing a small canvas bag out of the sack. With a covert glance around the room he slid the bag across the table. "There should be enough in there to get you by for awhile. None of those ID's or information is on the NCIS server or official records."

Trent took the bag, not bothering to look inside before his slipped it into his inside coat pocket.

"The GPS chip in the phone has been disabled and removed but I'd still recommend only using it during emergencies. Both the director and I have a burn phone. I programmed the numbers in. If something comes up leave one of us a voice mail, we'll check every ten hours."

McGee gathered up his things, searching through a different sack. Trent's eyes narrowed suspiciously. Was the kid acting nervous? Or was Trent just getting more paranoid as the days progressed? If he wasn't nervous, shouldn't he be? After all, according to the reports that Trent had had access to Special Agent McGee had no undercover training. No experience with drops other than a botched sting his second year on the MCRT.

"Are you certain that you weren't followed?"

McGee raised an eyebrow.

"Of course I was followed. The CIA has permanent tails on the Director and everyone you've ever worked with at NCIS. They're good, if Vance hadn't told me to keep an eye out for them specifically I'd have never known they were there. I think Gibbs knows but he hasn't said anything yet."

Trent snarled, his hand reaching for his gun as his eyes scanned the street again. Or would they slip in through the back door?

"You incompetent bastard," he hissed through his teeth. "You've probably gotten us both killed!"

McGee's face pinched with irritation.

"I'm not incompetent. They don't even know that I left the convention floor."

Trent didn't answer as he mentally tallied his possible exits. Both doors were out of the question. As was taking a hostage. Any CIA hit man worth his salt would just shoot them both. The window was a possibility but the broken glass could injure him.

"There isn't anyone there Kort. I wasn't followed."

The kid sounded so sure of himself. Kort didn't relax or take his eyes off the street. It wouldn't be the first time an agent's arrogance had gotten people killed. McGee sighed and leaned forward, catching Trent's eyes over the table.

"I left my apartment this morning in a costume. I entered the convention and there were _at least _fifteen other people dressed in the exact same costume."

Trent paused. The kid really thought that he'd done it. That he had ditched some of the best the CIA could throw out.

"Homemade geek costumes will have significant differences. Every one of those fifteen costumes will have some sort of distinguishing mark on them."

Tim shook his head.

"We didn't make our own costumes. We ordered them online and had them made by a professional. Each one is identical, that's extremely important for authenticity."

Trent raised an eyebrow.

"So you and fifteen other people ordered the exact same character costume for this convention? You might as well have broadcast that you were looking for a distraction."

A sly smile broke across Tim's face.

"Not the same character. Just the same costume."

Trent's eyebrow climbed higher. Since no one had come in gun's blazing yet he sat back into the chair and bit.

"And what costume would that be?"

"I came dressed as part of a storm trooper unit."

A smirk quirked the edge of the Englishman's lips. He had to admit, that was a little clever.

"I slipped into a friends booth right after we had a round of group pictures taken. We kept switching places the whole time, I'm fairly certain no one saw me leave." McGee sat back in his chair, arms crossed defensively across his chest. He had been proud of himself but Kort's reaction had shaken his confidence. Now, as his eyes swept across the street, he seemed to question if he had managed to shake the tail after all.

"I took my costume off in the booth and slipped out of the convention hall through the bathroom."

Trent raised an eyebrow.

"You slipped out a window and no one questioned you?"

McGee shook his head.

"The bathroom has a small supply closet in the back. There's a door there that they usually keep locked opening into one of the service hallways. I picked the lock and slipped out the back door."

"They would know about that exit, they would have had it covered."

Tim shook his head.

"Vance has had me prepping for this drop since Franks' funeral. I made sure that everyone knew I would be taking a few days but I was sure to not let anyone know what I was going to be doing. I kept my plans so secret that I don't doubt they thought I was going to make a drop. But there was no way they could have known I was coming to the convention, they couldn't have scoped the building beforehand."

"And when you got here they automatically decided you had been keeping it secret so DiNozzo and David wouldn't berate you. Clever. That is assuming they bought it."

"I pretended to forget my helmet in my car. When I ran back to get it the surveillance van was leaving. I saw at least four guys inside that didn't belong, there might have been more. It's a pretty big convention. People were giving them a pretty wide berth. Nerds tend to get a little jumpy when real Fed's are around. I didn't hear a single Scully or Mulder joke."

Trent relaxed slightly in his chair letting his hand fall away from his gun. Who'd have guessed Gibbs' baby agent had a set of chops on him? Trent certainly hadn't. Not with the lack of practical amount of undercover work the kid had under his belt.

"How did Vance know that you could pull it off?"

"Because I've been watching the best do it for the last seven years." McGee pulled a manila folder out of the sack. "This has all the information Vance has managed to gather from his end so far. It also has a list of a few off the books NCIS safe houses across the country. They should be safe but don't bet on it. We've been scanning our system daily and have found signs of attempted infiltration from the CIA at least four times so far."

He slid the file across the table and Trent took it, flipping it halfway open and briefly glancing over the content.

"Now, your watchdog got on a plane for Tel Aviv practically the second we had the paperwork on the Cobb case filed and put away. Vance called in a favor with Director David and Mossad dropped some Intel on a one-eyed, bald Englishmen arriving in Tel Aviv. But they know about the Director's relationship and aren't totally convinced so you still need to lay low."

Trent looked up, watching the kid's back straighten as he spoke, becoming more confident by the minute. The kid was right, he had learned from the best. But was observing the best good enough?

"I'll set up any drops in the future myself." Leaning across the table, Trent forced his way into McGee's personal space in a move meant to intimidate. McGee shifted back slightly, but otherwise his face remained impassive. Trent had to resist the urge to smile. He wondered how many times Gibbs had had to try this before the kid could keep so still.

"I will contact you twenty-four hours ahead of time with instructions to the drop zone. You will not leave DC unless it is necessary for a case. If you are going to be out of town be sure to let me know where to and how long you will be there." McGee nodded but keeping silent. His eyes were bright and attentive as he listened, no doubt committing each order to memory. Trent felt his estimation of McGee's abilities rising every minute.

"If I need a face to face meeting I will still only give you twenty-four hours notice. You will drop all plans, do anything you have too to be there. If I request a face to face meet it is because I have information too sensitive for a hard copy. Do you understand that?"

"Yes, I have to be available to be there on time because if I'm not I might loose vital information that can get a lot of people killed."

Trent nodded and sat back in his chair. A few convention goers were looking between him and McGee, clearly worried for the other geek's safety. Closing the folder he slipped that into his jacket as well before going back to sipping his tea.

"Go ahead and get back to the convention before they realize they are missing a storm trooper."

McGee nodded and stood, quickly collecting his bags in his hands. As he turned to leave he glanced over Trent one last time.

"This would have been a lot easier if you'd come to the convention in costume."

Trent snorted. There were better chances of him waltzing into the headquarters at Langley and turning himself in.

"And what costume would I wear? If you suggest pirate, or space-pirate, I might just shoot you and have Vance send me David."

McGee smirked and turned to leave. But not before throwing a quick reply over his shoulder.

"No, I think you could probably pull off Nick Fury. He's a popular one this year."


End file.
